


Take Me In Your Arms

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [28]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Cutesy, Fluff, M/M, Morning Cuddles, One Shot, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" It's breath taking really; Ian Gallagher. "</p><p>(The one where Mickey wants to wake Ian up with a kiss)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I THOUGHT THIS WAS WAY TOO CUTE TO IGNORE - Based off this prompt - Imagine your OTP sleeping together. Person B wakes up first and contemplates waking Person A with a kiss. Person B leans in only to hesitate centimetres away out of embarrassment. Person A opens their eyes and says, "Well if you don't do it, I will." 
> 
> Prompt me: im-an-angel-y0u-ass.tumblr.

Mickey shuffles awake, the heat against his back familiar, as it was every morning. He chuckles to himself, he was still trying to deny that he loved the feeling of Ian against his back. It felt safe, like Ian was shielding them from the mess of their life, the fuck-ups that they saw themselves as. Mickey wasn't going to sugar coat it; their lives were not the ritz – it was a bundle of shit after shit, but with Ian wrapped around him each morning, it gave him a little hope that they could get through that. Ian's fingers twitch against his, the hold of their hands together still strong like always.

 

Mickey decides that he actually wants to see Ian's face, so he turns in the hold making sure his leg doesn't reflex and kick Ian in the shin. That happened once and Ian whined like a bitch all day, using it as a come-back in every one of their arguments. Fucking reflexes. Ian's arms are still clutched around his body like a heater, his face looking all peaceful and untouched. Mickey pulls back just enough to see all the features that were Ian Gallagher.

 

And of course, he couldn't get enough of it. He couldn't get enough of Ian.

 

Ian's head is lolled to the side, bunched into the pillow as his lips muttered words that were utterly incoherent but adorable. Mickey traces the dip of Ian's spine, trailing his fingers back and forth against the skin of his back. It's breath taking really; Ian Gallagher. The way his hair was all messed up, sprawled against the creamy-looking pillow, the wrinkles against his forehead smoothed out – one thing that Mickey loved to see, because Ian always stressed out and he deserved a little break. Even when he was sleeping.

 

Mickey smirks when Ian groans in his sleep, arms tightening around Mickey in a plead to drag him closer. Ian's chest is marked with Mickey, a hickey smooth against his neck, a bite mark fading against the joint of his shoulder. It was fair to say that Mickey was extremely proud. At least now everyone knew Ian was his, he didn't have to say it to make people believe it. He consciously rubs a hand against his own marks, the one resting against his hip, his heart shoots out some sort of spark in thought of knowing he was Ian's. Only Ian's. His other hand dips from Ian's back and trails over Ian's broad shoulders, his hand sweeping against the bump of the shoulder bone. Then with both hands he braces himself against Ian's chest, gently stroking the skin of his pecks.

 

It was good Ian was a deep sleeper because Mickey couldn't do this when he was awake. Maybe on day he could be comfortable with doing it when Ian was conscious. One day. Mickey flinches as Ian shifts again, but this time the redhead seems to mumble his name in his sleep. He gasps, not expecting to hear his own name within Ian's dreams. Ian's eyes were fluttering, his lips twitching into a smile – from what Mickey guessed it was – he couldn't help himself but brush his thumb lightly against the plump pair of lips, his own watering at the sight.

 

Mickey's head springs up with an idea, a stupid idea but a good one. Ian would beam, would most-likely call him a sappy-ass, but he was going to kiss that fucker awake. He just needed to brace himself, he just needed to bulk up the courage to kiss his boyfriend awake. God, he felt so pathetic. Licking his lips, he scoots further against the sheets, his chest brushing against Ian's.

 

His lips brush against Ian's, the soft skin just meters away, and he knows that his breath would most-likely wake Ian up. But then again Ian was a deep sleeper, after all. He hand obliviously grabs onto Ian's biceps,squeezing against the toned muscle. His eyes trace Ian's pale skin, the freckles – which he tried to count every night but always got muddled up with the scatter and amount of them. They were faded from the sun, but the ones against his nose and hidden in his hairline were bright as day. Gently, he brushed his finger against the darkest freckle, the tension built inside of his bones.

 

This was the moment, he could do this. Until he couldn't. He hesitated at the last moment, mentally kicking himself in embarrassment at his own stubborn fear.

They were so close, Mickey didn't have time to pull back when Ian's eyes slowly fluttered open – his face looking like a new-born kitten. Like always, Ian knew. “Well, if you won't do it, I will.”

 

Mickey doesn't have chance to say anything before morning breath and sweet-Irish soap swarms into his scent. Ian's lips gently press against his, the redheads hand hooking itself around Mickey's back. Ian pulls back and bashfully hides his face into Mickey's shoulder, giggling into the soft, sweet skin that was marked from Mickey's position against the sheets.

 

Even if their lives were a shit show, at-least the mornings were worth it.


End file.
